


Something So Pure

by RoosterWhale



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Dacryphilia, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Other, Praise Kink, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-22
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:02:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19272892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoosterWhale/pseuds/RoosterWhale
Summary: The first time it happens is an accident.(Or, how Aziraphale discovers that Crowley really doesn't mind having his hair pulled)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Title from Amalee's English cover of Here from Ancient Magus Bride)
> 
> This was supposed to be fluffy, t-rated appreciation for Crowley's very pretty hair, but as you can see it devolved into smut pretty much instantly because I have 0 self control
> 
> Enjoy!

The first time it happens is an accident.

Crowley had begun wearing his hair longer in the past several weeks than he had in centuries-- not quite as long as it had been just after his Fall, but getting there. Long enough that it brushed his shoulders, and always curled perfectly, for Crowley's vanity would stand for nothing less.

Aziraphale loves it. He loves all of Crowley, of course, but he has to admit an exceeding fondness for the way those red curls frame his beloved's face, the way they always fall forward no matter how many times Crowley tucks them behind his ears. Aziraphale can't help reaching over and running his fingers through the wayward strands whenever he sees it happen. He's intoxicated by the way Crowley always leans into his petting, will sometimes grasp Aziraphale's wrist and hold his hand steady for Crowley to nuzzle his cheek into, pressing soft kisses to Aziraphale's palm.

And then, as Aziraphale sits in Crowley's lap in their little cottage one day, his ring gets caught in those perfect curls. Not a little snagged, either, as Aziraphale finds when he moves to pull away: it's hopelessly tangled, and he gives a sharp tug without meaning to. Before he can even start gushing apologies, Crowley makes... a noise. Somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as his whole body tenses.

Aziraphale goes just as still. He's known Crowley for six millennia, known him _intimately_ since the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't several decades past. Aziraphale might not have a perfect memory, but he knows that sound is one he has heard before.

It's not a bad sound.

It is, in fact, remarkably similar to the noise Crowley made the first time he sank down on Aziraphale's cock.

"My dearest," Aziraphale says calmly, "what was that?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean," Crowley says, far too nonchalantly.

Aziraphale raises an single eyebrow, projecting a look of total Angelic Disappointment. He gives another yank for good measure.

Crowley moans helplessly at that, hips twitching up minutely as he restrains himself from outright grinding against the angel in his lap.

"Don't be cruel, angel: we both know that'sss my job," Crowley hisses, valiantly attempting to avoid meeting Aziraphale's eyes.

"Oh please," Aziraphale says sternly, "what _we both know_ is that you're avoiding the question." His expression softens as he leans in to kiss Crowley, so soft and tender and full of love that it makes Crowley's heart ache.

Crowley whines low in his throat as he brings his hands up to clutch at his angel's hips, voice catching in his throat as Aziraphale miracles his ring free and cups Crowley's face in both hands, gently but firmly forcing Crowley to look at him.

"If you want something, darling, you know what you have to do," Aziraphale says in _that voice,_ and _oh,_ Crowley knows exactly where this night is going.

"I have to ask nicely," Crowley whispers obediently. This is the game they play sometimes: although neither of them would ever admit it to anyone but each other, Aziraphale likes to Command, and Crowley yearns to Obey. They fit together perfectly in this as in any other aspect of their relationship.

"That's a good boy," Aziraphale praises, rewarding Crowley with another kiss, this one meltingly long and downright filthy. "Now tell me what you want, my love."

" _Please_ ," Crowley whimpers as Aziraphale palms him through his trousers, "please, please!"

Aziraphale tuts at him, but he's smiling despite himself when he puts his hand back on Crowley's head to stroke his hair. "I'm going to need a little bit more from you than that, as you're fully aware. 'Please' _what?_ "

" _Pleasepullmyhairagain,_ " Crowly says all in a rush, feeling close to tears and desperate for his angel to push him over the edge.

"You're so perfect for me, Crowley," Aziraphale says reverently, not a single trace of insincerity in his voice as he grasps Crowley's hair and _yanks,_ giving Crowley no choice but to bare his throat to the one being in the universe he trusts fully and completely.

Aziraphale can't resist the urge to lean forward and bite, compelled by that lovely vulnerability.

Crowley jerks violently at the feeling of teeth on his throat, followed by a half dozen little kisses as an apology they both know is unnecessary. Pinned under Aziraphale, the angel on top of him and holding him tightly by the hair, Crowly can't really squirm, but he makes an effort regardless, overcome both with pain and pleasure and _love_ for the beautiful creature above him. He tries grinding his hips up into Aziraphale's, chasing some kind of friction and finding himself denied when his angel simply lifts himself up a bit, using his grip on Crowley's hair as leverage to settle a but higher on his knees-- cruelly out of reach of Crowley's hips.

"Angel, please," Crowley begs, "I need you to touch me."

"I am touching you, my love," Aziraphale laughs, giving Crowley's hair another tug.

"Touch my _cock,_ angel, _please!_ "

Aziraphale hums thoughtfully. "Perhaps we had better consider a change of venue? I think I'd like to pull on your hair as I fuck you from behind. What do you think, darling?"

"Yes yes _yesss,"_ Crowley hisses, "need you in me, want it so bad!"

"Bed, then," Aziraphale says firmly, standing before offering Crowley a hand up. Crowley takes it, feeling somewhat weak in the knees and reluctantly grateful for the assistance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was getting longer than I wanted, so for the sake of the chapters being roughly equal in length, I'm making it three chapters instead of two  
> (Hopefully)

Aziraphale heads for their bedroom as soon as Crowley is on his feet. He doesn't look back, knowing Crowley will be right behind him just as surely as if he had him on a leash.

 _Now that_ , Crowley thinks, imagining his husband pulling him along like a dog, _might be something we have to try next time._

Their bed, like many things in the cottage, is a compromise. The curtains on the bed are for Aziraphale, who finds it easier to sleep with the illusion of extra privacy. Crowley, who finds canopy beds to be rather tacky, picked the color scheme of dark blue with silver trim.

Aziraphale draws the sheer fabric aside and gestures for Crowley to get on the bed, his smile kind but his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Crowley goes with only a _tiny_ roll of his eyes, entirely too fond, and toes his shoes off before crawling onto the bed. He is blanketed almost immediately by Aziraphale's weight, heavy and warm and just right. Aziraphale starts laying little kisses on Crowley's neck as he rolls his hips in a rocking motion that makes it hard for Crowley to stay on all fours.

High on the still-novel ability to be vulnerable around another being, Crowley lets his front fall, cheek pressed against the sheets and ass still up in the air for his angel to grind against. A hand reaches down and slips underneath Crowley's waistband to stroke his cock, and _oh,_ he moans shamelessly as his wings manifest, trembling in pleasure just as much as the rest of him.

Aziraphale echoes the noise, delighted by the physical proof of Crowley's enjoyment. He continues to thrust against Crowley as he pets him, determined to hear Crowley beg again.

It doesn't take long.

Barely a minute later, Crowley's moans turn to gasps and whimpers, his hips twitching like he can't decide whether he wants to rut forward into Aziraphale's hand or back against his cock.

" _Aziraphale,_ " Crowley cries, "angel, c'mon, hurry up!"

"Anything you need, dearest," Aziraphale promises, a quick snap with his free hand miracling away their clothes. "Now, do you want me to prep you the short way or the long way?"

Crowley's wings beat a distressed rhythm against the sheets as he whines, torn. On one hand, Aziraphale has such lovely fingers, warm and soft and _big._ On the other hand... well, Aziraphale's cock is all of those things too. "Don't care," he decides, "just want _you._ "

"Oh, my love, I couldn't agree with you more on that. We can do a little of both, then, alright?"

Crowley nods frantically, happy to let his husband make the choice for him.

"Perfect creature, so good for me," Aziraphale praises, sliding down Crowley's body and ignoring his whine of protest in favor of leaving a trail of kisses down his spine as he goes.

Crowley practically shouts at the feeling of a tongue on his hole, a few teasing licks before Aziraphale presses a pair of miraculously slick and warm fingers inside, his other hand coming up to caress Crowley's wings. There is reverence in the way the fingers carding through his feathers move in time with the fingers inside him. They stroke him slowly, growing the fire in his belly until he feels on the verge on burning up completely.

The hand on his wing moves to caress what part of his face Aziraphale can reach, and Crowley only realises he has already started crying when his husband gently wipes his tears.

"Still good, my dear?" Aziraphale asks. He always asks, like even after all these years he is still unsure of himself, still has to check in. Crowley knows better: Aziraphale just wants to hear his voice when it's rough from crying.

He takes Aziraphale's fingers into his mouth instead, giving gentle licks and sucks. Crowley can't help taunting him a _little_ bit though. "Do you even have a cock yet, angel?"

"You couldn't tell from earlier?" Aziraphale teases right back.

"Don't know if you noticed, but I _was_ somewhat distracted. Or did you just feel like a small one today?"

"Would you prefer that?" Aziraphale says, all fake surprise. "Of course, if that's what you would like this time, far be it for me to deny you."

Crowley scowls, flicking a wing back to swat at his infuriating husband. "Don't even _think_ about it. I'll make you sleep on the couch, angel, see if I won't."

"Crowley, my dearest, other half of my heart. We don't even have a couch."

"I'll miracle one up! If you don't get _in me--_ " Crowley cut himself off with a groan as Aziraphale twisted his fingers roughly inside him.

"I rather think that's enough of that, now." Aziraphale removes his fingers, and Crowley whines at the loss, the feeling of _empty_ that only grows when Aziraphale miracles him open and slick.

Crowley arches his back, lifting his hips pleadingly and trembling with unsatisfied wanting _._ He's crying in earnest now: big, dramatic gasps and sobs as he begs, "pleaseplease _please,_ " clawing at the sheets with too-sharp nails and beating his wings in frustration.

The blunt head of Aziraphale's cock presses against his entrance, and before it even starts to press in Crowley knows it's _wrong,_ it's too small, not _enough._ He wails as Aziraphale pins him with a hand between his shoulder blades, keeping him still for Aziraphale to slide all the way into.

"Zira, 'Ziraphale, no, angel _please,_ need more, _why aren't you giving me more?_ "

"Shh, dearest, I know," Aziraphale coos. "Be patient. I'm going to try something new, do you remember your safeword?"

"Seventy-eight," Crowley gasps, trying fruitlessly to squirm, to fuck himself back onto Aziraphale's cock, to get any kind of relief.

"Good boy. So well-behaved, aren't you? Well," Aziraphale says, quite happy to watch Crowley's continued struggles, "perhaps not all that well-behaved. But I think I'd like to reward you anyways, how does that sound?"

Crowley keens in response, turning his head to gaze up at Aziraphale as best he can with tear-streaked cheeks and begs, "Anything, anything, Zira, whatever you'll give me."

" _Give_ you?" Aziraphale laughs. "You misunderstand, my darling. I'm going to _take_ what I want, and you're going to thank me for it afterwards. That's what you really want, after all, and so that is what your reward shall be."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 78 is a reference to 1478, the year the Spanish inquisition started according to Wikipedia, because I'm terrible at coming up with safewords  
> Stoplight language ftw!!  
> Edit: I realized after the fact that not everyone has read the book (duh) and therefore not everyone knows that, while Crowley claimed credit for the Spanish Inquisition, he hated it so much he drank himself into a stupor for a week and then took a 100 year nap. Remember the part where he tells Hastur "I really didn't like the 14th century"? Yeah.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter one took me 5 hours. Chapter 2 took me 5 days. I guess it tracks, then, that chapter 3 took me more than a month.  
> Uh, whoops?

Crowley might be losing his mind.

His wings have given up on their frantic flapping and now lay limp on the bed, twitching occasionally as Aziraphale fucks into him slow and relentless. Aziraphale is too small right now to get him off like this, with nothing touching his dick, but he's enough that Crowley can't help his steady stream of moans and whimpers.

With Aziraphale's wings enveloping him, soft white feathers all he can see and Aziraphale all he can feel and hear, Crowley feels indisputably _owned._ All he is belongs to the angel above him and inside him.

"So lovely," Aziraphale whispers sweetly, like he doesn't have Crowley pinned to the mattress with one hand on the back of Crowley's neck and the other a firm grip on the base of Crowley's wing. "I find myself consumed with greed for you. Another six thousand years would not be enough to satisfy me, even if I were to spend every second of it showing you how much I love you."

"Ngk," Crowley says coherently, finding it hard to speak with the corner of his pillow that had just found its way between his teeth. Not that he would have anything poetic to say in response either way-- where Aziraphale's love spills out of him in poetic phrases and heartfelt declarations, Crowley's always sticks in his throat with no way out, growing until he feels he might burst from it. Sometimes, when it gets too much, Aziraphale will break him down until Crowley's head quiets enough to let his thoughts slip out unburdened by things like embarrassment or self-consciousness.

Tonight, Aziraphale's hands glide over Crowley's body to gently slip the abused fabric out of his mouth. He pets Crowley's head in long, soothing strokes, rocking into him too softly to push Crowley all the way into the right headspace for easy exchanges of loving words.

It is, however, soothing enough that he isn't expecting those kind fingers to tighten in his hair and yank his head back as Aziraphale's thrusts suddenly quicken and turn rough. The slap of his hips against the back of Crowley's thighs makes Crowley howl and clutch the pillow closer to himself, needing something to hold onto even as he arches his back and tries to push back to meet each thrust.

"I did promise, didn't I, my love?" Aziraphale says conversationally. "A reward, and something new."

Crowley almost doesn't notice it at first, distracted by the onslaught of new stimulus overwhelming him; the fingers tangled in his hair, Aziraphale fucking him just right, those beautiful white feathers tickling his sides, it all feels so good, so _much,_ more and more... and then he realizes it _is_ more. Aziraphale is undeniably larger than he was when they started, is Making an Effort in a way he never has before. It fills Crowley so well, better with every second that passes, slowly but surely pushing him to the limit of what he can take. Words so far out of reach that even begging is beyond him, a keening whine falls from Crowley's lips with every breath. He's close, suddenly, getting closer with each moment until he feels he might drown in pleasure.

"How are you doing, my love? Feeling good?" Aziraphale asks softly, his tone at odds with the way his hips snap forward sharply, the force of it making Crowley feel spanked. Crowley nods rapidly, as best he can with Aziraphale still holding his head back by the hair, not trusting his voice. Aziraphale tuts disappointedly. "I know it's hard, but I need an answer, dearest. I'll have to stop otherwise."

Crowley whines louder, desperate. "Zira, yes, please," he moans. "It's good, feels so good, don't stop, don't you fucking dare!"

Aziraphale stops immediately-- doesn't pull out or let go of Crowley's hair, just goes completely still. Even the swell of his cock stops, now as big as anything Crowley has ever had inside him. "Now, now," Aziraphale sighs. "That wasn't very nice, was it? Anything you want I will gladly give you, but you have to ask nicely." Crowley can hear the smile in his voice, the smug bastard. He wants to growl, to hiss, to struggle and flip them over and _take_ his pleasure, ride Aziraphale until they both finish.

But more than that, Crowley loves the flush of humiliation that overtakes his own face when Aziraphale bosses him around so casually, like he knows there's no chance of Crowley disobeying a direct order. It's exactly what he needs. And so, instead of fighting, he lets the  tension drain from his body, spreading his wings as far as they'll go, fanning out the feathers to show off their careful grooming in a move that is equal parts submission and invitation, and begs, "Take me, please. I'm yours, for as long as you'll have me, as long as you want me! Even if you don't want me anymore, I'll still be yours, still--"

"None of that, now," Aziraphale scolds. "I will always want you. I will have you, I will hold you, and I will _love_ you, for the next six thousand years and beyond that. Just as much as you are mine, I am yours. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir," Crowley whispers, tears threatening to overflow once more.

"There's my good boy," Aziraphale says. His wings pull away and Crowley has only a second to miss their embrace before his angel begins to beat them fiercely, hips matching their pace as he uses them to give his thrusts more force. The rough treatment pushes Crowley right back to the edge and into a state of desperate urgency.

He opens his mouth to beg, to plead, to demand, but before he can make a sound Aziraphale wrenches his head back by the grip he still has on Crowley's hair, sets his teeth against Crowley's neck and _bites_ _._ Crowley shrieks, toes curling as he cums instantly. Aziraphale fucks him through it unfalteringly, whispering praises and sweet nothings until Crowley can't help the scales that ripple over his skin in patches or his own wordless gasping for breath he doesn't need.

Aziraphale follows at just the right moment, not pausing in his motions until every possible ounce of pleasure had been wrung from Crowley's body, but before he can cross the line into too much Aziraphale wraps his arms around Crowley in a grounding embrace and cocoons him once more in white feathers. He spills inside Crowley with a soft sigh that is equal parts contentment and fondness, laying soft kisses upon the back of Crowley's neck as he maneuvers them both onto their sides facing each other, pulling out and miracling the mess away as he goes.

They drift off to sleep like that, Crowley holding one of Aziraphale's hands in both of his own and Aziraphale oh-so-gently stroking those pretty red curls, each blanketed by the other's wings and more content than they had ever thought possible.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading to the end!! I know I don't respond to every comment but I do appreciate each and every one-- the kudos too!
> 
> (I feel like it's kinda obvious I had a difficult time with the ending but i refuse to edit anymore, I am Done with this fic)
> 
> Feel like having a say in what I write next? Vote for my next fic at https://www.strawpoll.me/18422059
> 
> Edit: Poll is now closed! Thank you to everybody who voted, looks like I'll be writing about harpy!Aziraphale and naga!Crowley next (RIP my search history) and Aziraphale using Crowley like a weighted blanket after that

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic in... eight years? And of course it's smut jfc


End file.
